


Space

by 127s



Series: resonance prompts [2]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Blood, Cherry Blossoms, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Pining, Unrequited Love, please give mark lee a hug, surprise ending that's not surprising
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:07:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27333910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/127s/pseuds/127s
Summary: He needed space.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Series: resonance prompts [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1993867
Comments: 4
Kudos: 41





	Space

Space. He needed space. What did that even mean?

Half of him understands, half of him gets it, the need to take some time apart. But the rest of him doesn't. Everything had been fine between them, fine for years now. He's used to it, used to starting his day with Donghyuck, calling him, meeting him for lunch, taking him to his classes, ending the day with him.

He's used to those moments between them, where they'd spend hours just talking, laughing, being in one another's company. Where they'd put on a movie, but lose interest in it within half an hour, and just sit together, where Mark would play with Donghyuck's hair, watch him, examine the features of his face. Donghyuck would fight falling asleep, and Mark would always love how clingy the younger would get when he was tired, complaining everytime Mark would move.

He looks at the message, fingers resting on either side of the phone. His thumbs hover over the keyboard, but he doesn't type anything. He knows not to.

It feels like it takes all of the effort in the world to will himself to put the phone down, half-tossing it to lay face down on the bed beside him. An exhausted exhale leaves him, though he's the furthest from tired he's ever been.

Space.

He's left to stare at the ceiling, thoughts of Donghyuck, of their relationship, filling every inch of his mind. He wants to reach for his phone again, but before he can consider it, or stopping himself, there's a nagging feeling at his chest, at his throat. Mark sits himself up, loosening the tie of the uniform he still wore well into the night, in hopes it would help.

He's soon coughing into his hand, heaving, and his chest aches with every movement.

It passes within a minute, but it leaves him with a lingering pain, a feeling that he can't quite inhale completely, a sting at his throat.

Slowly, Mark registers his fingers feel wet. His gaze falls to his hand, where he's greeted by small, eerily red splatters of blood.

Mark squeezes the pen between his fingers. He's trying, he swears he's trying not to think of him. Trying not to spare glances in his direction in the classes they share, in the halls. But it's _hard,_ hard to have someone in your life, then all of a sudden not.

The class ends, but Mark doesn't seem to notice. His focus is on the pen in his hand, twirling it, fiddling with it. "Hmm, Mark?"

He looks up to see Yuta, leaning over his desk to get his attention. When had the rest of the class left?

Mark clears his throat, although the simple action makes him want to wince. He blames the coughing fits, —the blood— on the stress, or something like that. "Yeah? What's up?" He answers, starting to stand up, gather his stuff, most of which being unused. It was just another class he didn't know why he bothered to show up to, he couldn't focus on a thing.

"Are you okay? Seems like something's been on your mind, I don't know." Yuta shrugs.

Mark falters his movements for a second, pausing in the pattern of slipping his books into his backpack. He doesn't know how to answer. Doesn't want to lie, but doesn't want to tell the truth either. Instead, he resorts to sparing his attention to the zipper of his bag, fiddling with it mindlessly, as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.

Yuta sighs, getting the hint that an answer isn't in his wait. "Maybe it's none of my business," His gaze stays on Mark, examining his expression for any type of reaction to his words. "Actually, it definitely is, but— whatever happened between you and Donghyuck— I hope you're alright."

Mark frowns. He'd supposed a question of the sort would come up eventually, him and Donghyuck shared practically all of their friends, but it didn't mean he knew how to react to it. "Yeah," He opts for again. "Thanks." With that, he zips up the bag, readying it to sling over his shoulder.

He only gets a few steps before there's that tingling sensation in his throat again, that tightness in his lungs. It's happening more frequently, he's sure of it. He's coughing, harder than he has before. It makes him dizzy, lose sense of where he is for a few moments.

He tastes the sting of blood again, but there's something else, something more in his throat.

"Mark? Are you okay?" Mark feels Yuta beside him. He hadn't realised he'd dropped to his knees, steadying himself with a grip at the desk closest to himself, and he feels the older's hand at his back. "Do you need me to get someone?"

He manages to shake his head, eyes squeezed shut until he feels the coughing fit begin to subside, at least enough for him to form a coherent thought.

There's blood, more of it than he's seen yet, and when his vision becomes less of a blurred mess, he registers the presence of something pink, something partially painted red with blood. His thumb moves to the palm of his hand, where his fingertips find the sensation of softness. He realises it's a petal, the pale pink of a cherry blossom. That didn't make sense. He hasn't seen cherry blossoms in months, it's nearing the end of the year, why would he—

"Mark?"

"Oh, uh— Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Sorry." His hand forms a fist, crumbling the petal beneath his fingers. Something tells him the last thing he should be doing is letting anyone see it. "I should go."

Five. He's coughed up five petals now. Each sooner than the last, each painted with blood that's more of a sickening red.

He taps his fingers at the side his laptop, an anxiousness in the gesture. He's always gotten nervous about these sort of things, googling his symptoms, he knows how easy it is to convince yourself there's a million things wrong when the Internet tells you so. But what else is he supposed to do? Who's going to believe that the five blooded petals crumbled amongst a pile of tissues came from his lungs?

Hesitant fingers begin to move across the keyboard, phrasing it as simply as possible.

_Coughing up petals._

Mark reluctantly presses enter, and let's the page refresh, though it takes a few seconds for him to will himself to look to the screen again.

There's words waiting for him everywhere, bolded, italicised, links.

Hanahaki.

An illness caused by unrequited love.

Lungs fill with petals, with flowers and blood, until the individual can no longer breathe, or choke to death amongst the flowers and blood.

Incurable.

He slams the laptop shut before he even processes that he's doing it. The words are gone now. 

Incurable, that couldn't have been right. That wasn't it, he didn't have some incurable illness all because of—

Donghyuck.

Donghyuck doesn't love him anymore.

Mark paces back and forth in the hallway. He's talked to Donghyuck a million times, stopped by the classroom to pick him up just as many, but now the younger feels like a stranger. How is he supposed to approach him? What is he supposed to say?

Hey, I know it's been a few weeks since you said you needed space, but I've like, got an incurable disease and could choke to death on flowers and I kind of really need your help to prevent that.

He tries to take a deep breath. It's harder to do so now, he never quite feels like he can properly inhale, fill up his lungs completely. Like they're already full.

He expects petals any moment now, it's a miracle if he can get through a class without having to rush out to cough up a heap of them.

Donghyuck is in there, all he needs to do is talk to him.

He lingers by a set of lockers, lightly hits one just for the sake of the noise, before he wills himself to walk to the classroom.

The classroom he knew better than any. It was one of the lesser used ones, always left open for students to spend time in, though none really did. Donghyuck, however, liked to. It was a nice kind of quiet sometimes, he'd said, especially when the pair had homework they'd put off the night earlier for the sake of cheesy horror movies and more pizza than they could handle.

Mark knew he'd be there.

He approaches the open door, though his movements freeze when he sees someone else.

Donghyuck is there too, but Mark notices the other figure first. Renjun.

Renjun, a somewhat friend of the both of them, one in more of Donghyuck's classes than Mark himself. Renjun, always offering to help Donghyuck with work he was struggling with.

Renjun, the one making Donghyuck smile and laugh, the one at the desk in-front of him, leaning over to the younger's, a grin at his own lips showing evidence of a long conversation.

Mark freezes for just a moment, then he's turning back into the hallway. He's moving, rushing in a direction he can't quite register—

Directly into someone. Someone slightly taller, though someone who rather than moved to defend themself, instead immediately took a hold of Mark's arm, keeping him in place.

"Mark, hey, slow down." It's Yuta, a calming, grounding voice. "What's—"

He moves out of the older's grip, feeling that tension in his chest, his throat and lungs again.

There's a bathroom nearby, he realises, and mindlessly heads toward it, pushes the door open and stumbles into a stall. He drops to his knees in an instant, coughing harder than he ever has.

It hurts, everything burns, he can't breathe.

There's blood on his hands, on his uniform, on the floor.

And then there's flowers.

A handful of bloomed cherry blossoms against the squared tiles beneath him.

He holds back the next wave of a coughing fit and completely stills at the sight.

Mark is used to the metallic taste by now. He's used to the breathlessness, the frequent moments where he has to squeeze his eyes shut, focus on trying to take a full breath.

He scrolls once on his phone, eyes on the photo the movement reveals. One of many dumb selfies with Donghyuck, one the younger had taken on his phone. Mark was looking at Donghyuck, while the other stood with a peace sign.

He zooms a little closer on himself, the way he'd been looking at the younger, like the camera wasn't even there. Unrequited love, huh.

He wonders what it was like for Donghyuck. Falling out of love. Needing space.

He sees a notification at the top of the screen, and his gaze flickers to it. It's Jaehyun, one of several of his friends asking where he's been, why he's missed so much school lately. He doesn't bother to answer, it won't matter anyway.

He places the phone down at the floor beside him, locking it in the process. When did he become surrounded with so many bloodied tissues and flowers? Maybe it was beautiful, in a way. Maybe it wasn't so bad, dying like this.

He leans his head back against the wall, until he notices his phone light up with a call.

Yuta hums in thought, pressing the phone to his ear. He hears the ringing, and leans himself back in the driver's seat of his car. His free hand rests at the steering wheel, tapping a pattern with his fingers against it. The phone keeps ringing, and he exhales.

He hasn't seen Mark since that incident in the hallway, and it hasn't left his mind since. He was sick, that part was pretty clear, but it seemed no one knew anything more than that, not even Donghyuck. Though Yuta doesn't feel like a stranger when it comes to it— having thoughts of Mark nagging at his mind.

The call rings out, and he glances down at the phone, as if needing the confirmation.

His homescreen looks back at him. He thinks about texting the younger, he is worried, but he doesn't want to seem _weird,_ sometimes people just need space when they're sick.

He places his phone on the passenger side's seat.

Then all at once, there's a sensation at his lungs and throat, a tightness of his chest.

He's coughing.

And then there's blood.

**Author's Note:**

> any prompt:  
> me: okay but how can i make this as angsty as possible
> 
> but yes, this is my second work for the resonance prompts!! hope you enjoy :D


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